


Lil' Pyjak

by ms45



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: F/F, Femslash, Fluff, fic prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-06
Updated: 2013-08-06
Packaged: 2017-12-22 14:29:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/914288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ms45/pseuds/ms45
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Commander Shepard wants to know *everything* about the female Krogan clans.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lil' Pyjak

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr prompt by pkbitchgrl for Bakara/Shep femmeslash.

It was quite obvious that Shep had a crush.

Sitting cross-legged on the end of “Eve“‘s bed, her eyes were the size of fishbowls as Eve told tales of gruelling shamanic rituals, survival in harsh, waterless environments, the politics and posturing of life in an all-female clan.

"How do you make decisions? Do you have a parliament? Like, a governing body?"

Eve’s eyes crinkled behind her veil. “As a shaman, I’m expected to be above politics. I think you know how well that works." Shep laughed like a horse, then realised she was laughing like a horse and choked to a stop.

"How do you govern yourselves, then? Is there a female Urdnot Wrex?"

Eve laughed. “We have clans the same as the men. Some are linked to the men’s clans, some are independent. It just depends on how the women want to run themselves."

"Do you need to make money? Do you act as mercenaries?"

At this, Eve slumped a little. “Not as much as we used to. We can be mercs, of course - we’re bigger and stronger than most races in the universe, no offense." Here, she reached out and squeezed Shepard’s bicep, tiny and slender in comparison to the krogan’s massive claw. Shepard felt a little squee in her heart even as she realised she was being insulted.

"But most of us don’t want to risk our fertility," Eve continued. “As you can imagine, if there’s even a chance in a thousand that you could have a live hatchling, you’re not gonna risk it for a handful of credits."

"Who protects you from predators, then? Thresher maws, varren - "

Eve glared at her. “Varren aren’t predators. They’re working animals. But yes, we get help from the male clans, and all of us can handle a shotgun. You just have to weigh up - what’s going to give me a better chance of successfully reproducing? Fighting, or hiding?"

"What do you do for fun, then?"

"Well, I might not be the best person to ask, Commander. I spend my waking hours in meditation and study. I suppose the clanswomen do pretty much the same as everyone else in the galaxy - watch vids, do chores, kick around a dead animal skin. The football championships are ferocious, unlike your codes - sorry, Shepard."

Shepard, who was a devoted Real Madrid fan, became quite miffed and changed the subject.

"Do you, uh, get lonely?"

Eve looked sharply at Shepard and tapped her translator. “I don’t know if this thing’s buggy, Shepard, but it seems to think you just asked me to sleep with you." She tapped it harder, enough to make a worrying _chk!_ sound.

" _What??_ No! Give me that!" After some frantic scrolling and tapping, they worked out that the no-nonsense krogan had had their translator of human languages make a few predictive leaps to get to the point faster. “Do you get lonely?" jumped straight to the inevitable invitation to sex. “I’m not racist, but…" translated as “Headbutt me as hard as you can."

"But I guess… do you guys have estrus? Human women aren’t supposed to have estrus, but we kinda get more frisky during fertile periods. Or non-fertile periods. Or phases of the moon. It’s not very consistent, but then there’s a lot of us."

Eve snorted. “Yes, you humans are good little breeders, I’ll give you that. So good you had to force yourselves to stop breeding sometime last century."

"You’ve been reading."

"I’ve got nothing else to do while Mordin runs these tests, and knowledge is my role as a shaman. But in answer to your question, yes, we go into estrus, and yes, we sleep together for comfort. They don’t cancel each other out."

Shepard had had just enough beers to keep pushing. “What about you? In my world, shamans - uh, monks and nuns are celibate. They’re, like, married to God."

Tap-tap! “Translator still thinks you’re trying to fuck me, Shepard."

Shepard threw her hands in the air. “ _Fine!_ I’ll honour your presence and status by being your personal cabana girl."

Eve tapped again. “Sausage child?"

"What? Oh! Cabana is… actually, never mind."

Eve dipped her head, fixing Shepard with her perceptive stare. “What about you, Commander?"

Shepard met her eyes fearlessly, but with something else - loss, perhaps.

"I’m a fucking legend. The saviour of the galaxy. The Butcher of Torfan.The scourge of the Reapers. I’ve died and been resurrected. I’m the first human SPECTRE. Until I was 18 I could barely read or write and then I joined the Alliance and they hammered it into me until I could recite the fucking Canterbury Tales. I still mix up _i_ before _e_. I command a ship worth over a trillion credits, with seventeen-eighty five staff, not including AIs. So in answer to your question, yes, I am bone-crunchingly lonely, and I have a sucking void where my heart should be, and I masturbate to get to sleep at night and wake up with shit in my eyes because I cried in my sleep. And then I get up and get back to work."

Shepard stopped and gasped for breath. She hadn’t meant to vent like that, especially not to a spiritual leader of a people who’d had their fertility decimated and who had herself undergone starvation and burial to prepare for her religious journey.

The giant krogan held out her arms. “C’mere, lil’ pyjak. Bleed your soul."

Sighing heavily, Shepard threw herself into the shaman’s arms, thrilling at Eve’s comforting embrace.


End file.
